


Americano

by RosyTintedFlash



Category: Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24419458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosyTintedFlash/pseuds/RosyTintedFlash
Summary: Same CMBYN world and scenario, but my take will explore a less hesitant side of Oliver. What if he was the bold one? Maybe even a little too bold.Elio can't decide if he loves it or hates it.
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	1. Don't Overthink It

It'd been a few days since the new student had arrived to Italy, and Elio really wasn't sure what to make of him. Though first impressions hadn't been great. Oliver was hardly warm; not to Elio, at least. He seemed to love his parents. Despite himself, he found himself resentful towards the man, if only for behaving effortlessly ambivalent towards him. He was still trying to reserve judgement, but so far... he'd pegged him as pompous and not worthy of his time. Maybe this was unfair, but Elio simply despised being treated like a child; he got enough of that from Mafalda and all the other elders who regulared the villa. It's not like he found much solace in the company of those younger than himself, either- too often, he found himself unable to relate to the triteness of their talk, though he would go along with it for entertainment. 

But Oliver was just another pretentious adult who only saw Elio as a child. And he really, really hated that. He was certain he was far more educated and worldly than some arrogant American student who'd only just left his home country for the first time. Oliver had a few years on him age-wise, but Elio could run laps around him when it came to actual depth. 

"Elio, don't brood so hard. You'll wrinkle prematurely," said Maritza, startling him from his thoughts. She playfully flicked his forehead and he hissed, bringing a hand to the area. 

"I wasn't brooding." She smiled and shook her head. 

"Don't you want to play?" she asked, her head jerking towards the volley ball game. He huffed and lowered his shades, eyeing the game. He scowled at the ostentatious playing style of the American... though he recognized he was perhaps projecting. Still. It was no use trying to change one's feelings. 

Was he really that bad? Oliver. 

He grabbed his jug of water and headed towards the sand pit, Maritza happily trotting by his side, feeling victorious. 

"Aren't you happy to have another American around?" 

"Why would I be? They're vapid and insolent." Maritza laughed. 

"You're American, no?" He rolled his eyes and gulped down a few swigs of water before sitting it on the soft, warm grass. It would be too hot to walk barefoot within an hour. That didn't give him much time to one-up the most esteemed guest. Without much ceremony, he entered the game as if he'd been playing all along. He could feel Oliver staring holes into his head, but he wasn't going to show him any interest. He found himself stealing the ball from Oliver, hitting it over the net with a skill he was pleased with. In his peripheral, he could see Oliver smiling. Eyes mirth-filled. 

It was infuriating. 

His anger fueled his game even more, until he was basically doing all the work for his entire team. Eventually, this antic caught up with him, though, and after a particularly powerful hit over the net, he landed badly on his left foot, letting himself fall to the ground as carefully as possible. 

"Fuck," he said voicelessly, panting face-down into the sand. 

"Well, that was imminent." Elio was so dehydrated and recoiling in pain that he didn't make out the voice, but it became apparent when he was suddenly lifted from the sand. This guy was huge... and strong. Elio scoffed. 

"Hey! Put me down," he demanded, and got his wish as soon as they'd reached a shady, cool spot in the backyard. 

"You know, you really don't have to work so hard at showing off," said a self-assured Oliver, his tone agonizingly patronizing. 

"Someone's presumptuous," mumbled Elio, a hand rubbing at his ankle in small, circular motions. He immediately tensed when his foot was grabbed from under him by impossibly large hands. 

"Someone's stubborn," he remarked, skillfully massaging Elio's injured ankle. "You might want to ice this for a while." Elio was practically red with rage, though he was trying very hard to evoke an uncaring disposition. Oliver couldn't help but laugh. 

"Something funny?" 

"I've been watching you." Elio's mouth went dry as Oliver's ministrations became rougher and even began climbing higher than his ankle, almost to his thigh. 

"Well, that's comforting," he replied through a wince, a bone cracking beneath Oliver's fingers. "You're fucking _hurting_ me." Another laugh escaped Oliver's lips, and he lifted his foot to his lips, placing a light peck to the ankle. Elio quickly yanked it away, his eyes staring at this apparently very strange man. 

"Stand." Oliver pulled him up by the arm and Elio was about to let himself fall to avoid further hurting his ankle, but... he found himself standing. No pain. He looked to Oliver incredulously. 

"Where'd you... where'd you learn to do that?" Oliver took a few steps towards him, until Elio's face was inches from his chest, a familiar large hand propping his chin upward until he had no choice but to gaze into those bright, blue eyes. 

"Oh, Elio. There's a lot I could teach you." He leaned down and placed a kiss to his cheek before walking back to the volleyball net. 

Elio stared dumbfounded. Maybe he wasn't being ignored after all.

Quite the contrary. 


	2. Awake

A week passed, and Elio had done a good job of making himself as scarce as possible. As Oliver was always the center of attention, quiet gatherings at the lake or in town were the main scenes Elio chose to take part in. Anything to stay away from him. Even so, he knew Oliver had, at least on a few occasions, snuck into his room at night and just... well, he wasn't sure what he was doing. His body was stiff as he would pretend to be asleep. His pulse would speed up when his bed would dip and creak, the peculiar American apparently seated at the foot of his bed. No, he never touched him. But it was still weird as hell. 

Especially when considering the conversation from the volleyball game a week before. What a _freak_. 

But... Elio would be lying if he said he wasn't secretly exhilarated by the attention. Oliver was tall, beautiful and accomplished... and Elio obviously had his affection. He wondered if the man just looked at his time in Italy as the perfect opportunity to _experiment_. He was sure he'd already slept with a few of the girls from town. Maybe he saw Elio as some perverted conquest. Something to check off of his list. Get out of his system. Nobody knows him here, so he thinks he'll fool around with his professor's young son, zero consequences attached. Probably gets off on the possibility. The idea was positively scandalous to Elio (and again, exhilarating), but he was educated enough to know that even if it wasn't socially acceptable, there was no intrinsic moral failing to lust after the same sex. He wouldn't judge Oliver for that. 

But he certainly wouldn't ever give him what he wanted, either. Elio would instead just enjoy the passive pleasure of being the object of his desire. That was enough to satisfy him. 

"Elio! Where have you been lately, 'belly?" Elio tiredly looked up from his apricot juice and book, shrugging. His dad fluffed his hair and Elio scoffed, pulling away from him. 

"I've been busy," he quietly answered, thoughtlessly glancing back to his book. 

"Too busy for your parents?" 

"The same could be said for both of you," he quipped, his tone lined with bitterness, despite himself. His dad laughed. 

"You talking about my student?" 

"Yes, but don't misunderstand. I get it. You have professional obligations. Well, so do I." He grabbed his backpack from the chair and pulled out his notebook of transcriptions, unceremoniously dropping it onto the table. 

"I bet Oliver would love to hear you play those." Elio couldn't help but light up at that, a puff of air escaping his nose. 

"Oh, I bet he would."

"What would I love?" _Shit._ Speak of the damn devil. Elio kept his eyes glued to his notebook, his game of silence and pure ambivalence in full swing. _It must drive Oliver crazy_ , he thought with a grin. It turned into an annoyed frown when a familiar large hand grabbed his shoulder. He stiffed up as the hand began to gently massage into muscle. 

"I told you that our Elio here is a real genius with music, didn't I? He's been missing a lot as of late, but he's going to be around more, won't you, Elio?" His dad looked at him expectantly, but he acted as if he didn't hear him and continued flipping through his notebook. 

"Yeah! I'd love to hear you play," echoed Oliver, a rough pat to the back nearly knocking the wind out of Elio. "Oops. Sorry," he said in a genuine tone, but when he angrily looked up to the man, his eyes were anything but genuine. 

"I'm gonna lay down," Elio suddenly stood from the chair and shoved his books into the bag, swinging it haphazardly around his shoulder. "I don't feel well." He didn't wait for either of them to respond and dashed up the stairs. Once in his room, he let himself collapse onto the bed, letting out a pillow-muffled groan. He'd hoped the two had the good sense to not follow him, but light foot steps became louder until someone had definitely reached the threshold of his room. 

"I didn't actually hurt you, did I?" 

"Of course not," he said into the pillow.

"What was that?" Elio raised his head and turned to face him. 

"Of _course_ not." He pulled himself up into a sitting position and just stared at the man inquisitively. What was his angle here? His eyes narrowed. 

"Don't sound like it's so obvious. You seem to be quite a fragile thing," he said, his arms stretching upwards with a yawn. "Look, I know you've been avoiding me. And I think I know why. I hoped you'd let me explain..." 

"I really don't know what you're talking a-"

"When I sit on your bed at night, it's because I'm home-sick." Elio's mouth clenched shut, suddenly feeling very tense. But more than anything...confused. He couldn't bring himself to come up with a reply. 

"I don't know why, Elio. But for some reason, you make that feeling go away." He'd said it so quietly that it was almost a whisper, and within mere seconds he'd left, gently closing the door behind him. 

Elio was suddenly gasping for air. He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath. Sweaty hands pushed the hair out of his face, and he laid back down. His heart was racing and he took a few deep breaths, eventually calming himself enough to fall asleep. 

He woke to the sound of chirping and the smell of a freshly ran shower. He pulled himself out of bed and walked into the bathroom, the condensation from its previous occupier still present. A deep inhale invited the mixed smells of a foreign aftershave and fresh soap, and Elio found his senses pleasantly stoked. He gazed lazily into the mirror after rubbing away some of the haze, taking note of his appearance. Eyes, a mix of blue, green, and gold. Hair, silky and finally seemed to fall around his face appropriately after a past hair-cut. Lips, pink with a red undertone, and skin, pale and milky. He'd never really considered himself all that special in terms of appearance, but this new thing... whatever it was, with Oliver, suddenly had his confidence on the rise. 

Elio was ready for some experimentation of his own. 


	3. Innocence Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver learns of some of the experimenting Elio has been up to.

_Oh, he's just so beautiful_. The instant he'd seen him, he knew he was quite special. Down to his name. _Elio_. He was smitten by a lot. His intelligence. His musical genius. His sense of humor. And of course, the magnetic beauty he wears so casually, a gift he graciously gives to wherever and whomever he encounters. This boy has no understanding of the power he possesses. The day he does understand, the world won't stand a chance. Oliver is certain of it. 

It was wrong. He shouldn't want him. Oliver was a graduate student. Twenty-four. Elio, only seventeen. Still in secondary school. And yet... Oliver couldn't help but feel they were the same somehow. Like they were meeting each other half-way to a location neither knew the route to, but both had been traveling for so long. So far, it seemed only Oliver was striving to find the destination. And maybe, he really was the only one ever interested in this alluring road not yet traveled; did their roads just meet briefly before quickly veering away from each other? Maybe he read too much into those little glances of Elio's. Perhaps he projected his feelings onto him. 

It was midnight when he heard the other door open to the shared bathroom. Comforted knowing the kid was home safe, Oliver sighed contentedly and closed his eyes. A few minutes passed before he heard light crying from the bathroom and reluctantly, he chose to check on him. Who knows what he was up to earlier? Oliver would make sure he was at least physically okay. 

"Elio? Is everything okay?" He gently knocked on the door. The crying came to a halt. 

"Just allergies." Elio was struggling to keep his tone steady. 

Oliver whistled and clicked his tongue. "I've heard that one before. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." 

"Suit yourself," replied Oliver in a sing-song tune. He meandered back to bed and figured he'd finally try to sleep. He knew there was a big day with Elio's father in the morning. 

Before he could really drift off, the bathroom door squeaked open. "I slept with her." 

Oliver was suddenly very awake and sat up, taking in the sight before him. Elio's face was red and swollen. Wavy hair more ruffled and greasy than usual. Eyes, sunken in with dark circles underneath. Oliver wondered how he could still look so ethereal.

"You did, huh?" replied Oliver, willing a warm smile onto his face. Part of him was crushed because this probably meant the kid liked girls only. The other part was painfully endeared to the palpable sensitivity Elio emitted over losing his virginity. "Why the tears? Didn't you like it?" 

"I... yes," he mumbled before walking to the bed and taking a seat at the foot. "I mean. I don't know." 

"You're young. And it's a big experience in life. It's okay to not understand it all." Oliver reached over to wipe a stray tear from Elio's cheek, but the kid jerked away as if burned. 

"I'm not that young. Don't patronize me." His tone was bitter and delivery curt. Oliver couldn't help a light chuckle from escaping. This earned quite the heated glare from his visitor. " _What_?"

"You're just so stubborn. It's amusing." 

"Well, I'm glad I could entertain you," he snapped and let himself fall flatly onto the bed. 

"Oh, Elio. Stop it. What can I do to make you feel better?" 

"There's nothing you can do. Like you said, it's a weird part of life. Attempting understanding or contentment is futile in this chaotic world." Oliver laughed again and Elio sighed, lightening up a bit. "When will I grow out of the dramatic phase?" 

Oliver leaned over him a bit, letting his hand wipe away some of the remaining moisture from Elio's face, fingers lingering on the soft, puffy skin. He didn't recoil this time. "I'm not sure you ever will," he replied fondly. 

"Why do you like such a dramatic child? Eh, Americano?" Mirth had crept up in Elio's voice now. 

"And who said I liked you?" 

After a huff, Elio playfully shoved at Oliver's shoulder. "You said I made you feel like home." 

"Ever think maybe it was just because of your accent ? You sound American." 

"Hm. Clever excuse. But a false one." The two became silent, only the sound of crickets and the odd bird filling the air between them. Oliver leaned onto his side, propping himself up with an elbow. He relished the company beside him. In the moonlight, Elio's eyes looked dark blue. They always seemed to be a different color. "You didn't deny it," Elio mumbled, his voice sleepy. 

"Why bother? You know everything." A subtle smile pulled at Elio's lips and the two again allowed a comfortable silence. After a while, Elio was asleep. Oliver watched him for hours, finding the up-and-down motion of his chest one the most comforting sights he'd seen. Eventually, he too drifted off. 

*******

"Oh, Oliver. You've shattered yet another egg." Anella laughed and he couldn't help but laugh along with her; the sound was contagious. 

"You think I'll get the hang of it before I leave?" he asked as he reached for another egg. 

"Well, you still have four weeks. That's plenty of time for someone as sharp as you," said Sam with that innate tonal kindness Oliver had grown fond of. The air around the three at the table was relaxed and the nature was as alive as ever. They chatted about etymology while Anella kindly humored them with a forced interest, a magnetic smile seemingly engraved on her face. 

"Is Elio still asleep?" she asked, interrupting the passioned discussion. Oliver's heart jumped at the sound of his name. He'd been avoiding group meals ever since their little sleepover. 

"No, dear. He went for a morning swim with his new friend," replied Sam, winking. Oliver forced a too-perfect smile. Anella sighed.

"That boy has been skimping on food. He's so thin, Sam." 

"Well, hey. I have to run into town and print some papers. Why don't I run him some breakfast on my way?" 

"Oliver, you're a darling! Please, make sure he actually eats it." Anella whipped up a few crepes with nutella and two eggs, folding them into a napkin. After a bit of the usual ceremony when leaving a gathering, Oliver bikes towards the river, bag of food around his shoulder. After arriving, he begins scanning the area, already braced for some possible PDA invading his vision. He sits the bike against a huge tree and quickly realizes that music is being played somewhere nearby. Classical music. On a guitar. 

"I wonder who that could be." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going with the flow on this tbh. You can expect angst soon. Tags could update or be removed as I go bc I don't know what I want until I'm actually typing.


End file.
